


Will You Dance With Me?

by Kato_Jiku



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: (but let’s be honest. is it really though?), Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Unrequited Love, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2020-10-11 19:15:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20551310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kato_Jiku/pseuds/Kato_Jiku
Summary: It had only started as a small niggling at the back of his throat. He hadn’t expected it to bloom (quite literally) into something that would kill him if he did nothing about it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. I wrote a thing. Again.

Sylvain stares in dismay at the pastel purple flowers in his hand. He’d hacked them up while he was on his way to flirt with a particularly pretty-looking girl, but now his plans have been thwarted by a bunch of flowers making their way out of his throat. He’s heard of this disease before; he just didn’t think he of all people would contract such a disease. It was frightening to say the least, but he has an inkling as to whom these flowers were for. They certainly aren’t for any of the girls chasing after him for his crest. He secretly hated those girls with a passion (not that he’d ever voice the sentiment to their faces). That only leaves a certain grumpy swordsman he’s known since childhood.

Felix Hugo Fraldarius.

He doesn’t mind that he’s contracted hanahaki for his childhood friend of all people. He’s just worried about Felix rejecting him which, of course, there was a high probability of that happening.

Instead of going over to flirt with the pretty girl and perhaps ask her for a dance at the upcoming ball like he’d first intended, he hides the flowers in the pocket of his uniform and makes his way over to the infirmary.

He’s relieved to see Professor Manuela is there and, more importantly, alone. The last thing he needs is for news to spread about this particular predicament. Sylvain cuts to the chase, pulling the flowers out of his pocket. “I have hanahaki disease. I know it can’t be cured unless I confess and the feelings are reciprocated. Do you have something that would help with the symptoms in the meantime?”

Manuela blinks owlishly at him before her grin turns cat-like. “My, my. I didn’t expect someone like you to contract a disease like this.” She rummages through the cabinet beside her as she looks for the bottle she needs. “So, who’s the special lady?”

There’s an awkward pause before Sylvain says, “There is no special lady.”

There’s a minuscule pause in Manuela’s actions, but she eventually finds the bottle she is looking for. “In any case, here.” She hands him the bottle. “Those powdered herbs should alleviate the coughing, but they aren’t meant to be taken for a long period of time as they lose their potency the more you take them. It’s best if you get your confession done and over with when you’re still in the early stages. But if all else fails, come see me. I’ll be able to perform the surgery if need be.”

Sylvain clutches the bottle in his hand and bows his head in gratitude. “Thank you, Professor Manuela.”

With that out of the way, he heads to the library. There may be some type of book that would be able to help him identify just what these purple flowers are called and also what they mean. He sets to searching with intense concentration as he ignores the numerous eyes staring at him as if he doesn’t belong. And he doesn’t belong, but he needs to get to the bottom of this because this quest is important to him. He needs to know what these flowers are called and how they relate to the feelings he held for Felix.

He selects a few promising books from the shelves and finds an empty table where he could start his research. He flips carefully through each page, cover to cover. It isn't until the third book that he sees the familiar purple hue in the form of five petals fanning out from a dark purple center. It looks strikingly similar to the ones he hacked up less than an hour earlier.

Viscaria. So that’s the name of Sylvain’s mystery flower. He nods to himself. A pretty-sounding name for a pretty-looking flower. Sylvain moves on to read what it represents in the language of flowers and proceeds to stare dumbly at the page after reading the single line several times.

_ Will you dance with me? _

Well, it’s true that Sylvain wanted to dance with him, but Felix? Worst case scenario, Felix would think Sylvain was fucking with him by asking him for a dance. The last thing Sylvain wants is for Felix to think he was joking. Felix already hates him enough, right?

He shakes his head and closes the book with finality. Right. It’d be better for Sylvain if he just kept this to himself. He wouldn’t be able to handle rejection. Not from Felix. It would kill him. Literally. Surgery to remove the flowers from his lungs was also out of the question. He can’t bear the thought of forgetting Felix, someone he’s known for so long. He’ll just live with this until the day he inevitably… dies. Sylvain huffs a dry laugh. It’s not like anyone will miss a good for nothing like him. It’s better this way. And so, with his decision made, Sylvain makes his way out of the library and proceeds to pretend nothing ever happened.


	2. Chapter 2

A week has passed since Sylvain came down with the disease. He’s been able to hide it fairly well from the other students, but he has no idea how much that would change in the next few days. Every thought, every mention of Felix’s name or even the word _ dance _ made his throat itch nowadays. Thankfully, the powdered herbs Manuela gave him kept most of the coughing at bay, but Sylvain knows at some point even the herbs wouldn’t be enough to keep the flowers from tumbling from his mouth. He coughed up the flowers in secret when he was sure no one else was around, and if someone noticed his voice sounded a little hoarse, he’d just say he caught a cold.

What made things more difficult for Sylvain was Felix himself. If the thought of Felix made Sylvain’s throat itch, then actually being in the swordsman’s presence made it ten times worse. He couldn’t sit through the Professor’s lectures without feeling the need to clear his throat every five minutes. It made Sylvain feel absolutely miserable, and perhaps Byleth had noticed it, too. She called for him to remain after the lecture, and he is now left awkwardly shuffling on his feet as he waits for everyone to file out of the classroom.

“Is there something you’re not being truthful about, Sylvain?” Byleth asks. For a person much shorter than Sylvain himself, she sure is intimidating when using that kind of tone.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Professor,” Sylvain lies while making every muscle in his face smile.

Byleth merely gives him a scrutinizing stare for a few moments. “…You know, I chose Felix as our representative for the White Heron Cup next week. I believe he’d be an excellent Dancer, don’t you think?”

Sylvain can’t help it. He coughs up the flowers he’d been holding back throughout the lecture, and they tumble to the stone floor at his feet. The look Byleth gives him is one of muted disappointment.

“Why haven’t you told me about this?” she asks, and Sylvain can’t help but to feel guilty. “You aren’t planning on confessing to Felix at all, are you?”

“How did you figure it was Felix?” Sylvain asks, deflecting Byleth’s questions.

She crosses her arms. “I have my ways. There were a few things about your recent behavior that gave you away.”

“You’re awfully perceptive, Professor,” Sylvain says. “It’s probably the most frightening thing about you.”

She brushes Sylvain’s comment aside and says, “You’re not confessing to Felix.” It isn’t a question this time.

Sylvain sighs and relents. “No. I’m not.”

“I see.” The look Byleth gives him is one of sadness. “I’m not going to make you change your decision, but please think about confessing to him. There’s a chance of him accepting your feelings, and I’d hate to see you lose your life over something like this.”

“I’ll give it some thought.” Sylvain crouches to the floor to pick up the handful of flowers but stops when Byleth motions him to stand back up.

“I’ve got this covered. You should go and rest,” she says.

A genuine smile makes its way to his face. “Thanks, Professor.”

Her responding smile is small, but it’s enough to make her entire face glow along with it. “Anytime, Sylvain.”

* * *

Of course someone would be standing in front of the door to his dorm by the time he gets there. Sylvain curses his luck.

“Ingrid, what brings you here?” He offers a smile to Ingrid, but she doesn’t return it.

“You’ve been acting strange lately. I thought you’d be all over the girls with the ball just around the corner,” Ingrid says.

Sylvain offers a shrug. “Girls aren’t everything, are they?”

The look Ingrid fixes him with is bewildered. “Who are you and what have you done with Sylvain?”

Sylvain is mildly hurt by her words. “Do you really think girls are all I think about?” he asks.

Ingrid’s eyebrows scrunch together in worry. “Well, no, but people couldn’t help but notice how you’ve stopped flirting with them altogether. And with the ball coming up soon, I thought you’d jump on the opportunity to ask any girl you see to dance with you.”

There it is again. An itch at the back of his throat. A telltale sign that the flowers are begging to be set free, but Sylvain holds the cough back. _ Not in front of Ingrid. Oh, Goddess, not in front of Ingrid. _ He does a little grimace and instead says, “With all that went down in Remire Village, it’s a bit hard to get into the spirit of a ball, don’t you think?”

“You do have a point, but we’re still worried about you. Is there something you’re not telling us?”

Sylvain almost flinches at the question. It’s almost the same question Byleth asked him earlier. He opens his mouth to speak, but it’s hard to do so around the flowers in his throat. He decides to shut it again.

The look in Ingrid’s eyes grows even more worried. “Please, I want to know what you’re going through. If there’s anything I can do, please tell me. I want to help.”

Sylvain gives her an easygoing smile. “Don’t worry about it, Ingrid. It’s nothing too serious.” He gives her no room to argue as he shuts his door in her face. The last thing he hears before Ingrid leaves is a thump on his door and a soft sigh of defeat.


	3. Chapter 3

The next several days pass by in a blur, and Sylvain realizes he’s getting worse. The flowers are now a constant in his throat and lungs, and it’s more difficult to form syllables around them. He finds every free moment he can to clear out his throat in private. Only now it seems everyone in the Blue Lions is worried about him and won’t give him any time for himself. Ashe and Dedue need his help in the gardens. Dimitri offers to eat with him in the dining hall. Annette and Mercedes ask him for help with baking sweets. Ingrid helps him with mucking out the stable stalls. And Felix… Well, Sylvain’s been avoiding Felix like the plague.

The herbs have lost most of their effect, and Sylvain knows if he were to interact with Felix in this very moment, he wouldn’t be able to hide the flowers from him. It’s only a matter of time before Sylvain’s lungs fail him, but Sylvain has already made his peace with this. Just a little while longer, and the world will finally be rid of him.

He rounds a corner and almost runs right into the one person he’s been trying to avoid. Felix faces him with an angry countenance, and Sylvain backs away until Felix reaches out and takes his arm, deterring him from any more movement.

“You aren’t getting away this time,” Felix says. His grip tightens when Sylvain makes a face. “You haven’t spoken a word to me since you went and got yourself sick, and you are going to tell me why.”

Sylvain keeps his mouth shut as he feels the roots of the flowers dig in deeper into his lungs. It’s painful, but he bites his lip to keep the coughing at bay. Felix scowls at this and releases him.

“Sorry,” Sylvain manages to rasp past the flowers obstructing his throat.

“If you’re sorry, then hurry up and get better, idiot. If you die from this, I’ll murder you.” A smile stretches across Sylvain’s lips, and Felix’s scowl grows deeper. “Shut up. You know what I mean.”

Felix pushes past Sylvain and storms off, ears tipped with a brilliant red. Sylvain makes sure Felix is out of earshot before releasing a wheezy laugh that soon devolves into a coughing fit that wracks his entire body. A pile of bloody viscarias litters the grass once the fit passes, and Sylvain slumps back onto the nearby wall and closes his eyes. A deep exhaustion overtakes him, and he lets it consume him until he’s unwilling to move anymore. He stays there for what seems like hours until he hears someone approach him, and whoever it is makes a noise of distress when they discover him and the pile of bloody flowers in front of him.

“Sylvain?” He recognizes the lilt of Ashe’s voice which is tinted with concern, and he opens his eyes to see the other reaching into his pocket to retrieve a handkerchief.

“It isn’t as bad as it looks,” Sylvain says as Ashe wipes at the likely dried blood from his face.

Ashe gives him a look which tells him he doesn’t buy it. “You have hanahaki disease, and you’ve been feigning having a cold for almost two weeks.”

“Okay, it’s pretty bad, but it could be worse,” Sylvain says, giving a negligent shrug.

Ashe is done wiping Sylvain’s face, and he motions to the sad pile of wilting, bloody flowers. “It’s going to be worse if you don’t confess to the person these flowers are for.” He frowns when Sylvain remains silent. “You aren’t planning on confessing at all, are you?”

Sylvain forms his lips into a wry smile in lieu of answering Ashe’s question, and the look the younger boy gives him in return is sorrowful.

“You decided this from the start, didn’t you?” As Sylvain nods, Ashe shakes his head. “I really do hope you change your mind.”

“You aren’t the first person to say that,” Sylvian responds.

“That’s what I figured… Do you need help getting to your room or the infirmary or anywhere?”

“I can manage on my own.” He heaves upward into a standing position, and he immediately realizes his mistake as he sees stars explode into his vision. He feels more than sees the world tilting, and Ashe manages to catch him onto his smaller frame in time.

“You need help,” Ashe says with finality, and Sylvain doesn’t have the strength to contend this point. “Have you even eaten anything today?”

_ Ah, that might’ve been the problem, _ Sylvain idly thinks as Ashe surveys him with ever-growing distress.

“I am taking you to your room, and I am bringing you food from the dining hall, and you are going to _ eat it_,” Ashe announces as he hooks Sylvain’s arm over his shoulders and half-drags, half-walks him toward the dorms.

“There isn’t any need for you to go that far,” Sylvain justifies as they reach the first of the stairs that lead to the second floor dorms.

“There’s no use in arguing with me, and if you lock your door by the time I get back to your room, I _ will _ pick it back open.”

Sylvain is left speechless for the rest of their journey to his room, and when he is told to rest on his bed while he waits, he listens.

Ashe returns a handful of minutes later with two trays of warm food and hands one of them to Sylvain. They sit in silence for a while as they nibble on their meals until Ashe asks Sylvain the question he’s been silently waiting for.

“Is it alright for me to ask who those flowers are for?”

Sylvain takes the time to chew and swallow his current mouthful of food. “Can you keep a secret for me?”

“Of course, Sylvain. I won’t tell a soul.”

“It’s Felix.”

Ashe slowly places his forkful of food back onto his plate. “Sylvain.”

“Yes?”

“I know Felix calls you one all the time, but I think you might actually be an idiot.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m not going to force you into it, but I think you really should confess,” Ashe declares. “I don’t think Felix would reject you of all people.”

Sylvain merely gawks at Ashe as if he's grown a second head. Were they talking about the same Felix? He voices his thought aloud, and Ashe merely laughs.

“Maybe you’re oblivious to it, but I don’t think he hates you as much as you believe. You should give confessing to him a try.”

Ashe leaves soon after they've finished their food to take the trays back, and Sylvain is left to ponder on the younger boy’s words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I’ve been told that typing in Comic Sans actually helps you type, and I’m kind of mad that it’s working lmao.


	4. Chapter 4

He doesn’t want to be here. Sylvain really doesn’t want to be here, but Ingrid dragged him to where Felix is going to compete in the dance competition, the rest of the Blue Lions following behind them. He feels so incredibly nauseous, bile rising along with the flowers in his throat. He’s abandoned the herbs altogether. They don’t help him now. The only thing that would help him is the sweet release of death, but he doesn’t want to go like this. Not where everyone in the Goddess damned monastery could see him crumble apart and reveal what he’s been hiding since the start of the month.

Alois, with his loud, booming voice, announces the names of the contestants and judges to the boisterous crowd. If Sylvain hadn’t caught this damn disease, he’d have cheered right alongside his classmates as Felix’s name was announced, but right at this very moment, he just feels sick to his stomach. The contestants begin their dances as music begins to play in the large gathering hall, and Sylvain is captivated by Felix’s movements. His dancing is so graceful, and Sylvain wants nothing more than to dance with Felix in his arms.

But he _ can’t_.

Fear consumes his heart as the roots dig deeper into his chest and make his lungs quiver with the action. That’s all it takes for Sylvain to start coughing. He starts coughing, and Goddess, he can’t _ stop_. He feels someone’s hand grab him by the arm then, and they gently lead him out of the large room, leaving a trail of bloody viscarias in their wake.

The coughing continues until Sylvain is absolutely exhausted and all that remain are his raspy, wheezing breaths. It’s then that he belatedly realizes, as he leans against a wall, that Ashe is the one who lead them out of the room, and the rest of their house had followed them out of worry. The last thing Sylvain sees before he falls unconscious is a pair of amber eyes burning with anger as they sear holes into Sylvain’s very existence.

* * *

Everything aches. His lungs and throat especially are on fire. Sylvain almost doesn’t want to open his eyes, but he wills them open anyway. It isn’t a surprise for him to find himself in the infirmary. He must’ve been taken there by his entire house if the various empty chairs around his current cot were anything to go by. He wants to laugh a scornful sound, but he doesn’t have the energy for even that.

He hears a light knock coming from the open door to the infirmary, and he turns his head. Ashe is standing by the door with a tray in his hands, and Felix stands with his arms crossed a little ways behind him.

“Oh, good. You’re awake,” Ashe voices with a smile. “I’ve brought you some food if you’re up for it. How are you feeling?”

Sylvain shakes his head and points to his throat in answer. He doesn’t believe in his ability to speak properly in this moment.

“Would some water help?” Even before Sylvain answers with a nod, Ashe is already setting the tray down and handing him a cup of water as he helps Sylvain with sitting up against a multitude of soft pillows.

Sylvain mouths a ‘thank you’ before taking a sip and letting the coolness of the water soothe his throat. Felix steps into the room then, arms still firmly crossed across his torso and lips pressed into a stern line. Sylvain doesn’t like the look of it. Ashe apparently doesn’t like it either as he makes some feeble excuse before escaping the infirmary altogether.

“You really are an idiot.” There’s so much anger dancing behind Felix’s eyes that Sylvain has to look away. “I can’t believe you planned to die by yourself without _ confessing _ to me. Have you already forgotten the promise we made as children?” Sylvain shakes his head in protest, and he watches the anger on Felix’s face crumble away into devastation. “Then why didn’t you tell me?”

Because he was scared and because he was the most gigantic asshole on the planet. Sylvain couldn’t say those words even if he wanted to. The water helped, but his throat is probably still not in working order. He mouths a ‘sorry’ instead.

“Then don’t scare me like that, idiot!” Sylvain jolts as Felix punches the cot beneath him with enough force to make it creak. “I wouldn’t have rejected you,” he says softly, looking into Sylvain’s eyes with rare honesty, “and I won’t reject you now.”

Felix surges forward into a kiss, and Sylvain feels his chest swell with constrained emotions. He feels so overjoyed, and he responds by pulling Felix on top of him and kissing him senseless. Sylvain swears from that moment on, he’ll never let Felix go.

* * *

A week later on the night of the ball, Sylvain wrings his hands together as Felix has yet to appear. He remembers Annette and Mercedes whisking Felix away earlier that afternoon while saying something about wanting to help Felix dress up. Sylvain just hopes they don’t go so overboard that they miss all the festivities of the night. He lounges by the punch bowl as he watches others waltz around him before Annette appears to him out of _ nowhere _ and pulls him over toward the entrance. There he sees Felix dressed in a custom dancer-class outfit, and Goddess, he would have to thank Annette and Mercedes later because Felix looks _ stunning._

Sylvain reaches out a hand for Felix and asks, “Will you dance with me, Felix?”

“Of course,” Felix replies, taking his hand. “And if you even think of ever letting me go tonight, I _ will _ kill you.”


End file.
